


The Trouble with Gryffindors

by chibistarlyte



Series: Hobbit Drabbles [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, First Kiss, Fluff, Gryffindor!Bilbo, Hufflepuff!Thorin, M/M, in which Bilbo and Thorin are Hogwarts professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibistarlyte/pseuds/chibistarlyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin's just trying to grade his students' essays for Ancient Runes, but how is he supposed to get any work done with a certain Herbology professor hanging around his office?</p><p>Not that he minds all that much, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble with Gryffindors

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little oneshot in which Bilbo is the Herbology professor/head of Gryffindor house and Thorin is the Ancient Runes professor/head of Hufflepuff house. I want to write more in this universe at some point.
> 
> The little part about the moonflower was yoinked from A:tLA, specifically the Tales of Ba Sing Se, when Uncle Iroh talks to the shopkeeper about the moonflower. :3
> 
> Unbeta'd, since this is going in my drabbles collection.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Knock-knock,” came a cheery voice from the door.

Thorin looked up from the roll of parchment he was currently grading, keeping his head tilted down slightly so he could peer over the frames of his reading glasses. A small smile lit up his typically stoic features as Professor Bilbo Baggins, head of Gryffindor house, entered his office. “You could just knock, you know, instead of saying, ‘knock-knock,’” he teased.

“Oh, hush,” Bilbo said as he pulled a spare chair over, making himself comfortable on the other side of Thorin’s desk. He set a small bundle on the desk top, minding the runic scrolls scattered about. “You missed supper, so I brought you some pumpkin pasties. Courtesy of Bombur, of course.” The smile the Herbology professor gave Thorin was blinding, much like the very sun that helped the plants grow.

The Ancient Runes professor eyed the bundle on his desk for a few moments. He _was_ hungry…maybe he could take a little break and eat, since Bilbo was here and all. But no more than five minutes, he told himself. He still had a mountain of essays to get through before his class tomorrow morning.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. He removed his reading glasses and set his quill down before unwrapping the bundle of treats. Bilbo beat him to them, though, grabbing a pasty for himself before Thorin could take one. At his colleague’s antics, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Didn’t you just have supper?”

“There’s always room for one more pasty,” Bilbo said matter-of-factly. To prove his point, he chomped off a huge bite, his cheeks puffing out slightly from the amount of food in his mouth. This elicited an actual laugh from Thorin, who nearly choked on his own pasty at the adorably goofy sight.

Once he swallowed down his bite, Thorin said, “With as much as you love food, you should have been a Hufflepuff.”

At that, Bilbo scoffed. “And be stuck in Hufflepuff with the likes of _you_? No thank you.”

Neither of them could keep a serious face for much longer after that comment. They shared a chuckle as Thorin reached for another pasty. Bilbo, in turn, brushed the crumbs off his robes and stood. He headed over towards the office’s windows, where several small stands and tables littered with plants served as décor. Thorin remembered when Bilbo had put them there—“Your office is so dreary; these should liven things up a bit,” he’d said—and as much as he wanted to protest, he’d just let the man do as he pleased. He had no idea how to even properly care for the plants, but he did his best because they were gifts from Bilbo.

Realizing he probably had the sappiest of grins on his face, Thorin quickly changed his expression to something a little more serious to match his usual demeanor. Bilbo always did strange things to him without meaning to—making him smile more, causing his heart to race in his chest, almost as if Thorin had consumed a love potion.

But enough distraction. He had essays to grade. The head of Hufflepuff didn’t have the heart to send Bilbo away, so he decided to just continue grading while Bilbo was still there. The Herbology professor would surely understand.

“I was almost sorted into Ravenclaw, you know,” Bilbo said out of nowhere as he leaned over one of the larger plants to examine its leaves.

Thorin glanced up once more from the parchment in front of him, watching Bilbo and waiting for further explanation, which Bilbo provided without prompting.

“I remember sitting on that little stool in front of the whole Great Hall, shaking like a leaf with nerves. The Sorting Hat was so large on my head, the brim fell past my forehead and covered my eyes. I couldn’t see a thing.” He paused in his anecdote, letting out a small laugh. “The Hat asked me why I was so nervous, told me that he already knew exactly where to place me. Ravenclaw, he said, because I was a very clever little wizard who would do well there.”

Bilbo was now staring out the window at the sky still alight with setting sunlight, a wistful expression written all over his soft, delicate features. Thorin could swear his heart melted right there.

“But I nearly shouted at him, no, I don’t belong there! I wanted so badly to be in Gryffindor. My mother was in Gryffindor, when she was at school here. She was always so brave and daring and forthright, and I thought, why can’t I be like her? I told the Sorting Hat such, and he listened.” Bilbo turned and faced Thorin, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the smaller man since he’d started weaving his tale. “So here we are.”

“Here we are,” Thorin echoed, smiling faintly. Here they were indeed, with Bilbo sharing one of his many stories and Thorin falling even deeper for him than before.

The Ancient Runes professor didn’t realize he’d zoned out again until Bilbo’s tsk-tsk pulled him from his thoughts. “Oh, Thorin, have you been watering these at all? They’re practically dried out,” Bilbo said almost mournfully. He fished his wand out from inside his robes and aimed the tip towards the soil, watering the plants sufficiently.

Oh, bugger it all. Thorin wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight while Bilbo was still hanging around his office. Gathering the scrolls up into a neat pile, Thorin stowed them away in one of the numerous drawers in his desk. He would worry about them later, perhaps ask his students for an extra day to grade them. He knew that they’d want them back as soon as possible, but they were usually an understanding lot.

When Thorin looked up again, Bilbo was heading back over to him carrying a medium-sized pot with a wilted-looking flower planted inside.

“This one,” Bilbo said, gesturing with the plant itself, “would be better suited away from the window. Maybe here on your desk. It’s a moonflower, and it blooms when out of direct sunlight.”

Thorin stood and took the pot from Bilbo, examining his desktop and figuring out the best place to put the plant. With one hand, he cleared away a pile of various runic texts from one of the front corners and placed the pot there. He was surprised to see the frail-looking flower open up its petals a bit, looking a little healthier than before.

“You sure know your plants,” the Hufflepuff said a bit stupidly for lack of anything else to say.

Bilbo laughed. “Well, I should hope so. I _do_ teach Herbology, after all,” he said, leaning closer—too close, Thorin thought—and giving the Anicent Runes professor a playful nudge.

There was nothing more pleasant or enticing than the sound of Bilbo’s laughter. Without considering the possible ramifications of his next action, Thorin leaned in and kissed Bilbo, cutting off any further sound other than Bilbo’s sharp intake of breath as soon as their lips met.

The logical part of his brain kicked in a moment later, and Thorin broke the kiss as quickly as he’d initiated it, leaving Bilbo looking about as dazed as he himself felt. Ice flooded through his veins. He shivered as if he’d taken an impromptu dip in the Great Lake in the middle of January. Bilbo was probably going to hate him now. He shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have—

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked, his voice quiet and deep, as if he’d just woken up from a long, deep slumber.

“I-I’m sorry, Bilbo, I wasn’t thinking…I…”

Bilbo then stood on his tiptoes and silenced Thorin with a kiss of his own, swallowing down any half-thought excuse he could have said. Small hands fisted the lapels of his robes and tugged him closer, spurring Thorin to snake his hands up Bilbo’s neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling his large fingers in those soft chestnut curls. He tilted his head and changed the angle of the kiss. He could almost taste Bilbo’s quiet moan on his tongue.

There was a knock from outside before the door to his office swung open, revealing Balin Fundinson, History of Magic professor. “Professor Oakenshield… _oh._ ”

Thorin and Bilbo broke apart as if they’d been burned, both of their faces flushing redder than Gryffindor house’s scarlet banners.

Balin continued as if he hadn’t just walked in on two of his colleagues in a compromising position. “Oh, good, you’re here too, Professor Baggins. You’re late for the staff meeting, both of you.”

“O-oh, that was tonight?” Bilbo said, running a hand nervously through his mussed curls. “Apologies, Professor Fundinson. Tell Headmaster Gandalf we’ll be along in a minute.”

Giving them both a knowing smile, Balin nodded. “Very well. But don’t take much longer. You know the Headmaster doesn’t approve of being late.” And with that, the elder professor closed the office door with a soft click.

Thorin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tapering off with a small laugh at the end. “Well. Of all the poor timing…”

Bilbo smiled and pecked his cheek. “Not to worry. We can continue… _this_ ,” he gestured between them, “later.”

“Is that a promise?” the Ancient Runes professor asked, tucking a few strands of Bilbo’s hair behind his abnormally large ears.

“Of course,” Bilbo replied, his voice low and tantalizing. Thorin shivered.

“You, Professor Baggins, are just trouble waiting to happen, aren’t you?”

Smiling slyly, Bilbo said, “And _that_ , Professor Oakenshield, is a trait of a true Gryffindor.”

Thorin couldn’t help but steal another kiss before they rushed off to the staff meeting they were already late for.


End file.
